What I Learned From Mr Ollivander
by nell0629
Summary: One night, after escaping from Voldemort's dungeons, Harry Potter uses a temporal device to send his spirit back into the body of his seven year old self. Will he be able to set things right?Noslash. Fifthyr & forward AU. Rated T to be safe. Gray Harry!
1. The Escape

Summary: On the night of June 16th, Harry Potter uses a temporal device to send his spirit back into the body of his seven year old self. Will he be able to set things right?Noslash. Fifthyr & forward AU.

A/N: There are a lot of unanswered questions in this first chapter. Relax! Smiles secretively. Everything shall reveal itself in time. If anyone wants to beta this story, contact me! I need one :). Please review! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, flames are not.

Disclaimer: Even though it is obvious that I am not JK Rowling… sighs I do not own anything except for the plot.

What I Learned From Mr. Ollivander

Ch.1

The Escape

The luminous moon sailed high above the Earth that night, luring to her the dark waters of the sea. Accordingly, waves rose and exploded against the cold, rocky crags on the shores of Ireland. The water pooled into small streams and slid down the mountain, dampening the grass around a towering, ominous manor. A man, in heavy black robes, could hardly be discerned from the darkness of his surroundings. He stepped gingerly through the grass, hopping over muddy spots, and almost falling in his haste to reach the manor. Eventually, the man reached a pathway and his face was illuminated in the flickering candlelight.

His long, platinum blonde hair was disheveled and his aristocratic features were marred with anxiety. Hesitantly, the man sauntered through a rusted iron gate and, peering nervously about, opened the large oak door of the manor. He silently walked through the halls, his face sliding in and out of light as he passed the torches on the wall. After five minutes, the man reached a simple wooden door, and taking a steadying breath, opened it.

"My Lord" the man simpered, with a low bow. His eyes sought out a tall, thin figure swathed in long black robes, which gazed back at him calculatingly.

"Lucius" Voldemort hissed, "I hope you have good news."

The threat was not lost on Lucius, who began to tremble as sweat beaded on his forehead. "My Lord," he choked out, "We were not able to locate Order headquarters, however—"

His excuse was replaced with a scream as Voldemort lazily directed the Cruciatus Curse at him. After a minute, the snake like man lowered his wand and asked in a deceptively polite voice, "Please… continue."

"The boy- lied- to us-" He gasped, his eyes huge with pain.

For a moment, thunderous anger crossed Voldemort's face, before it quickly disappeared.

"Bring him to me."

Lucius rushed out of the room, and plowed down a spiral set of stairs that seemed to go on infinitely. Finally, his feet fell upon the damp, cobbled floor of the dungeons.

'_When I get that boy, he will regret ever humiliating a Malfoy'_ Lucius thought, murderously. He prowled down the rows of cells, ignoring the groanings of misery, before he came to a stop at a surprisingly silent cell.

"What, no insults today Potter?" Lucius drawled, retrieving a key from his cloak pocket, and turning it in the lock. The door squealed on its hinges to reveal…nothing, except a plate of uneaten food and a bucket of water.

"Lumos!" Lucius cried, but the resulting light did not illuminate a skinny, black haired boy. Lucius cursed and fled back up the stairs, contemplating what he was going to tell his master, and dreading how he would respond.

--

At the precise moment that Lucius Malfoy discovered the empty cell, Harry Potter could be found pacing in front of an impressive fireplace inside what was once Nicholas Flamel's home.

"Where is it Mr. Ollivander?" Harry asked sharply, through chapped lips. "We don't have time to search the entire mansion."

For a moment Mr. Ollivander was shocked by the desperate vehemence displayed by the boy's countenance. Harry's painfully thin body was tense in a mixture of fear and anticipation while his dark emerald eyes emitted an almost hostile air. The magic that engulfed the boy was almost tangible, and in spite of himself, Mr. Ollivander was proud that he had helped to create the wizard that Harry Potter had become.

He remembered vividly selling the boy his first wand, and knowing instinctively that he would be great. However, even then, he could not have dreamed just how great the boy would become under his tutelage. Mr. Ollivander had to admit that he'd always harbored an attraction to power… which was probably what got him into Voldemort's dungeons in the first place.

"Ollivander!" Harry practically shouted, forcing Mr. Ollivander from his thoughts. "The temporal device?"

Mr. Ollivander frowned, and blinked slowly "Well if it isn't inside his trunk, I don't know where else it would be…"

Harry gripped his hair in utter frustration, feeling his throat begin to tighten with despair. He had hoped that with the temporal device he would be able to save everyone: Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, Sirius… the list went on. Ron, Hermione, and Harry had been captured in the Dept. of Mysteries a year ago and were taken to Voldemort's manor. Not a week after their imprisonment, Ron and Hermione had been murdered. As if that weren't enough, five months ago, Dumbledore and several other Order members had died in a rescue attempt...

"Where else would Nicholas have hidden it?" Harry cried, trying not to let guilt overwhelm him. "If we don't find it soon, we will be recaptured!"

Mr. Ollivander gazed unseeingly at the wooden floor before he suddenly looked up. His light blue eyes were bright, almost as if a lamp had just been turned on behind them.

"What if," Mr. Ollivander began, his voice shaking with excitement, "Nicholas moved the temporal device just before his death, fearing that it could be found once the magic he used to protect it wore off?"

"Okay, then where would it be?" Harry asked slowly, his eyes burning intensely.

Mr. Ollivander didn't respond immediately, but continued in his train of thought.

"Which would mean that it would have to be held somewhere that it could be protected suitably with ancient magic that doesn't have to be renewed…"

Mr. Ollivander paused for a moment, and then said "the library."

Harry nodded and immediately sprinted downstairs, sliding onto the slick marble floors of a long hallway before turning and entering the library. Mr. Ollivander arrived behind him thirty seconds later, gasping for breath.

The elderly man pointed a shaking finger to the far corner of the library.

"The statues" he wheezed.

Harry looked and saw a door situated in between the statue of a phoenix on the left, and a lion on the right. He wiped sweat off his forehead, and made his way over to the statues, mentally vowing to improve his stamina.

"I believe" Mr. Ollivander announced to Harry "That one tests your identity while the other tests your intentions."

Harry positioned himself in front of the lion first and peered at it, wondering what he was supposed to do. Out of curiousity, he touched the lion's flowing mane, sliding his fingers along the rough contours of the rock.

"Ouch!" Harry hissed suddenly, leaping back. The statue had bit his hand and left four bloody punctures. After a moment, with Harry holding his wounded hand and Mr. Ollivander staring at the statue curiously, the lion performed a low bow. They heard a grating noise that sounded like a heavy lock sliding out of place.

Mr. Ollivander smiled "well, I guess you passed that test. Try the next one."

Nervously, Harry strode over to the phoenix and warily touched the wing. He waited… and waited but nothing happened. Confused, Harry began to observe it, and noticed that its eyes were not made of stone like the lion, but of what looked like glass. Realizing what he needed to do, Harry stared at the glass eyes of the phoenix.

Slowly, Harry noticed a presence in his mind, which became progressively more uncomfortable, until it was almost intolerable. Memories flashed through his mind quickly, too fast for him to understand them, before the presence abruptly disappeared.

He flinched horribly when he felt someone touch his shoulder, but then realized that it was only Mr. Ollivander. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, trying to calm his trembling limbs, and looked back at the phoenix.

Its eyes were bright crimson. The phoenix nodded at him before it lifted its right wing, and they heard another lock slide out of place.

Mr. Ollivander and Harry looked at each other excitedly.

"Can we go in now?" Harry asked.

Mr. Ollivander rubbed his chin pensively and then shrugged.

"We won't know until we try" he replied.

Harry sighed, wishing that for once the he could be certain about _something_… Anything… However, his line of thinking was abruptly ended when an explosion of agony generating from Harry's curse scar brought him to his knees.

"Voldemort knows" Harry murmured, eyes closed and body tense.

Mr. Ollivander took one look at Harry before striding to the wrought iron door and wrenching it open. The room the door revealed was small and dim, but Mr. Ollivander's wizened eyes quickly sought out the temporal device.

Mr. Ollivander's first impression of the device was that it reminded him forcibly of a muggle gyroscope. There were two circles, which intersected each other at ninety-degree angles. However, on one of the circles, the phases of the moon were painted around it, while on the other there were phases of the sun. Next to the temporal device was a time turner that seemed regular, except for a notch in one end.

Mr. Ollivander swiftly understood the need for the time turner. He grasped the temporal device and aligned the sun and moon phases so that they appeared to be one single circle. Afterwards, he took the time turner and placed the end with the notch in it inside the temporal device.

"Let's see…" Mr. Ollivander muttered to himself, trying to figure how many times he would have to turn it in order to send Harry back to age eleven. His gnarled finger thoughtfully drifted across the picture of a blue moon.

"Hmm… A blue moon occurs every 2.75 years… Full moon is every month…"

His musings were brought to an abrupt halt when he heard Harry groan in pain behind him. Mr. Ollivander glanced back and was horrified to see Harry's scar bleeding.

"Harry!" He cried urgently "use Occulmency!"

"I" the boy gasped, "am"

That was when Mr. Ollivander realized that there was no more time for intricate calculations. He couldn't think of anything to say, they both knew that Voldemort was attempting to kill Harry through their link.

So, Mr. Ollivander forced himself to turn back around. He quickly twisted the time turner inside the temporal device several times, not even knowing which month Harry's spirit would land in. After he had the temporal device adjusted, he took it and ran to the boy's side.

"Here we go, Harry. You're going to make it, boy. You'll make it." Mr. Ollivander murmured, taking out the time turner and putting it in Harry's white knuckled hands.

"You might need this" He said, unsure of whether or not Harry could even hear him.

Mr. Ollivander then placed the temporal device directly in front of Harry's knees.

"Here we go", he repeated determinedly.

The old man knelt a couple of feet away and stretched his hand out towards the device, using what limited wandless magic he had available to him to start spinning it. It was very slow, too slow. The paintings were still visible.

"That won't create a field!" Mr. Ollivander said furiously.

"Harry!" the wand maker cried out. There was no response. Harry's posture was slouched, with his arms wrapped around his frail body and his head pointing towards the floor.

"HARRY POTTER!" Mr. Ollivander screamed desperately.

This time the boy started, his eyes blindly searching for Ollivander's face.

"You have to use your wandless magic to spin it!" the old man yelled. "I can't do it fast enough!"

It appeared as if Harry woke from a dream. Suddenly, his eyes were sharp and focused on the temporal device. His mouth was set in a grim line.

"You can do it!" Mr. Ollivander said, and he believed it entirely.

Harry swiped the blood away from his eyes and began twisting his wrist in a circle. Immediately, the temporal device responded and spun faster.

And faster.

Until the temporal device was just a blur and a blindingly golden force field surrounded Harry. Vaguely, Mr. Ollivander could see Harry, with blood leaking out of his famous lightning bolt scar.

Harry mouthed the words "Thank you" to Ollivander, with a quick nod.

Suddenly, the room shook, like it was under the influence of an earthquake, and the force field was brightened to celestial intensity, forcing Mr. Ollivander to look away.

And then the room went pitch black, and Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, was gone.


	2. Nighttime Snacks

Chapter Two

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed!! You make my day and encourage me to write faster!! I hope this chapter is to your satisfaction. It may have a couple of errors because I was only able to give it a quick once-over so…yea… please enjoy!

Disclaimer: Don't own anything except the plot! 

Please Review!!

What I Learned From Mr. Ollivander

Chapter Two

Nighttime Snacks

It was a little after twelve o'clock at night when young Dudley Dursley woke from his peaceful slumber. He gave a large, shuddering yawn and rolled out of his bed, causing the floorboards to moan and creak in protest. The blond boy squinted carefully around his dark room before he exited it, careful to avoid the many toys scattered around the floor. A loud grumble, originating in the substantial abdominal area of Dudley's body, caused him to grip his stomach and grimace as if he just had the wind knocked out of him. Nothing awakened the small giant at night except for hunger pains. After all, what was the use of getting up to go to the bathroom when you had a pull-up on?

The boy waddled across the hall quickly, intent on reaching the refrigerator, but stopped suddenly, just before his pudgy little toes touched the first stair. His ears easily recognized the whispering tones of his parents. He narrowed his eyes and listened harder, a vein throbbing in his forehead from all the exertion. Dudley enjoyed eavesdropping enormously, because most of the time, his parents were talking about him. When they were talking about him, they were usually also talking about presents… But Dudley grew disappointed when he realized the topic of his parent's clandestine conversation was neither about him, nor presents. It was about the little freak under the stairs.

"…Writhing and screaming like he was possessed…" came Vernon's gruff whisper.

"He's just laying there… sweating and limp… hospital?"

"No!" Vernon said in an increased volume, before whispering again. "Little freak… After everything we've done…costs us money…I won't stand for it!"

Dudley's disappointment transformed into anger as the conversation continued. Why were they so worried about the little runt? _He _was the one who hadn't had any food since supper. The obese boy frowned and walked down the stairs, becoming even angrier when his parent's failed to notice his presence. He turned toward the cupboard under the stairs and was instantly greeted by his parents' rear ends blocking his view. They were bent over, looking anxiously at Harry Potter.

"I'm hungry!" Dudley announced, smirking when his parents spun around in fear. His attention was diverted, however, when his eyes caught a glimpse of the small boy inside the cupboard.

"Is he dead?" Dudley asked curiously. The freak certainly looked dead. He was as white as a ghost and didn't appear to be breathing.

"No, Diddykins, he's not dead. Why don't you just go upstairs and I'll bring you some-" Petunia started, before Dudley interrupted her.

"Yes he is!" the obese child shouted, face red. "That's what dead people look like on the telly!"

This time, Vernon addressed his son. "Go to your room… Now!"

For a moment Diddykins was speechless, his face turning the color of a grape jolly rancher, his eyes filling with tears. It was silent a few more seconds before--

"YOU HATE ME!!" Dudley screamed, moving his legs back upstairs as fast as his fat would allow. He tripped on the last stair and fell to the ground with the force of an asteroid hitting the Earth. Inside Harry Potter's cupboard, particles of dust and sheet rock scattered around the little boy's head.

Petunia instantly leapt into action, taking the stairs two at a time before reaching Dudley.

"Oh my wittle Duddy is huwt" She cooed, smoothing back his thin blonde hair. "Come on, Mummy will take care of you."

With that Petunia led her son back to his room while Vernon stayed downstairs, watching seven-year old Harry Potter with a furious gleam in his porcine eyes.

--

When Harry woke up the next morning, he was extremely uncomfortable. First off, he had a severe headache and was trembling uncontrollably. The cupboard he was staying in was stiflingly hot. Furthermore, there was something solid and large pressing into his rib cage. Grumbling irritably he reached out a hand and gripped the object that was bruising his side. He was preparing to throw it at the opposite wall when he caught a glimpse of what it was.

A time turner.

Suddenly, he was very confused. It took him a full minute to orient himself enough to remember what he was doing in the cupboard under the stairs, why he was so extraordinarily small, and why he had a time turner in his hand… and then he did remember, and immediately wished he would forget again.

Knowing that Uncle Vernon would take it upon discovery, Harry waved his hand over the time turner and transformed it into a very ordinary pocket-watch, which he quickly hid under a tattered blanket. He yawned afterwards, quite tired once more. His eyelids became heavy.

'_Was I really this little when I was eleven_?' he thought, closing his eyes once more.

Harry realized that with his mind so foggy, he would never be able to figure anything out at the moment, so he succumbed to darkness once again.

The second time Harry awoke that day, the first thing he saw was Aunt Petunia's horse-like face peering down at him with… concern? Harry shook his head, wondering if the temporal device had somehow addled his brains.

"Oh, good. You're finally awake." She said tartly, resuming her usual look of cool indifference and standing up. "There is a lot of work to be done and I won't allow you to laze about all day."

"Yes Aunt Petunia" Harry replied automatically, sitting up. He was appalled to find that his arms shook from the effort.

An hour later, Harry was standing on a stool in the kitchen, busy with dishes. As his hands worked at soaping another cup, his viridian eyes wandered out the window and his mind eagerly followed.

He watched the trees outside sway in rhythm to the gusty afternoon. Birds outside chirped merrily as they flittered around the Dursley's yard, their wings haloed in the sun's golden light. Despite the normalcy of the scene, Harry was amazed at the beauty of it. At one point in his life, Harry believed that he would never see the light of day again. Yet here he was, washing dishes in the Dursely's kitchen once more, filled with satisfaction, because he had received a second chance. All thanks to Mr. Ollivander.

Harry's heart swelled with gratitude and affection for the elderly man. During the year of his imprisonment, Mr. Ollivander was the only thing that kept Harry from sinking into the pits of guilt and despair. On the first day of their incarceration, Voldemort's Death Eaters were ordered to bring Harry, Hermione, Luna, Ron, Neville, and Ginny to a large cell where the Dark Lord himself interrogated them, trying to find the location of the Order of the Phoenix and the contents of the prophecy.

"So that we can end it, once and for all." He had explained with a wicked smile.

When no answers were forthcoming, he used the Cruciatus curse on each of them in turn.

"Fine" he stated, after that did not loosen their tongue. "Tell me what I want to know or I will kill Ms. Lovegood."

"Don't you dare tell him!" Luna demanded, looking at all of them fiercely. "He will just kill us all anyway!"

And then Harry remembered watching the spirit disappear from her eyes as Voldemort killed her.

After Harry returned to his cell, he simply laid there on the ground. He was so afraid and so unbearably sad, that he could not even shout or cry. He couldn't do anything.

For a while, everything was silent. Then, Harry heard a voice coming through wall from the adjacent cell, calling his name.

"Whose there?" Harry murmured.

"It's Mr. Ollivander, from the wand shop in Diagon Alley." The voice said.

"What do you want?"

"I want to teach you Occlumency."

"What?!" Harry exclaimed. That was certainly not the answer he was expecting.

"…I said--" Mr. Ollivander started to repeat, with slight irritation coloring his tone.

"I know what you said!" Harry interrupted, "But why?"

"Well that is complicated, but I am afraid that Voldemort will extract Order information and the prophecy directly from your mind using Legilimency."

This made Harry sit up, and scoot shakily towards the wall.

"How do you know about the Order and the prophecy?" he asked suspiciously.

"My dear boy, when you are old friends with Albus Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel, one learns many things that are not generally well-known."

Harry's brow furrowed, "Why wouldn't Voldemort just use Legilimency to take the information from me now and then kill me? That would be a lot easier."

"Well" the voice said, "He-who-must-not-be-named is nothing if not vindictive and arrogant. I'd assume that he will kill your friends, and then simply get the information from your mind using Legilimency. If only to hurt you."

Harry paled, and then he shook his head.

"No" he choked "I can't let that happen. It's my fault they're here in the first place!"

"Mr. Potter, we do not have enough time for you to have a breakdown! We will learn Occlumency and start wandless magic as soon as possible. It will be imperative to our escape"

"I can't!" Harry sobbed. "Professor Snape tried to teach me Occlumency and I wasn't able to learn it."

"Foolish child" Mr. Ollivander admonished kindly. "There is no use crying over spilled milk. All we can do now is try our very best to set things right."

Wiping sweat off of her forehead, Petunia Dursley glanced at the position of the sun in the sky and then down at her watch.

"Lunchtime!" she chirped, standing up and brushing herself off. The newly planted lilacs smiled up at her from their beds and Petunia was very satisfied with the way they enhanced her garden. She looked over at the neighbor's house with a sneer. They didn't even have a garden. Laughing derisively, she walked inside the house and pulled off her gloves.

She stopped upon reaching the kitchen, and confusion lit her eyes. The boy was standing on the stool, staring out the window with tears streaking across his cheeks, holding a soapy plate in a white-knuckled grip.

"What happened?" Petunia asked, breaking the silence.

Harry gasped and flinched, causing him to fall off the stool and break the plate on the tile floor. Slowly sitting up, the boy took a peek at his hand, which was bleeding where the glass had punctured it.

"Oh crap, I'm so sorry Aunt Petunia" He apologized, when his Aunt didn't say anything.

Petunia's face was deathly pale. "That was my grandmother's china", she whispered.

Harry looked up at her pleadingly but didn't say anything, knowing it wouldn't help.

Abruptly, she looked down at him, fury radiating off her in waves. "Well?" she shrieked, "clean it up and then get in your cupboard! Don't you dare get any blood on the floor!"

"Yes m'am" Harry complied, rising to get the broom. He began to sweep it all up into one pile, expertly ignoring the stinging in his hand. Much worse had happened to him. He wished that she would leave so that he could fix it wandlessly, but she continued to stand there, watching him like a hawk. Scooping up the broken glass and depositing it in the trash can, Harry glanced up at her.

"I promise I didn't mean to." He beseeched.

"That doesn't matter now does it? My china is broken and it cannot be fixed! Go to your cupboard, and don't expect any lunch!"

"Yes Aunt Petunia" Harry obeyed, walking past her cautiously, expecting a slap. Thankfully none came, and he shut himself inside the dark cupboard.

The cupboard used to be a place where Harry felt like he was safe, but now it just reminded him of his cell in Voldemort's manor. Dark, stifling, and small. It made him extremely uneasy and he began to feel the beginnings of claustrophobia setting in.

Quite suddenly, Harry felt the urge to cry again.

'_What is wrong with me? I'm almost sixteen years old in spirit and I feel like I'm five.' _

He regarded his hands, which were ridiculously small for an eleven year old. He shook his head _'I can't be eleven yet, Mr. Ollivander must have sent me back too far… But that still doesn't explain why I have the emotions of a younger child. The temporal device must not have completely eradicated my younger spirit, just pushed it aside…'_

Frowning pensively, Harry mentally went back through the temporal process. Mr. Ollivander had placed the temporal device directly in front of him and backed away. It started spinning slowly and he had forced it to go faster, until the speed was self-sustaining. The resulting vortex created a rip in time and Harry's natural body disintegrated inside the field, because no living object (like a body) would be able to travel through time alive. His spirit had landed here… but could not remember what happened when the spirits collided. Flashes of panic, pain, and jumbled images were all that Harry could recall.

Harry shrugged and wondered if he could possibly get the information from Nicholas Flamel. He needed to get away from the Dursleys anyway, in all haste. There was nothing for him here. In fact, he could stay at the Leaky Cauldron for a few days until he could acquire a more permanent residence… There would be plenty of food for him to eat and freedom to do whatever he needed. He could even create a training regiment for himself in order to get stronger and build up stamina. Lord knew he desperately needed it.

A smile lit Harry's face for the first time in a year. His decision was made. He would leave tonight, after the Dursley's fell asleep.


	3. The Mysterious Box

What I Learned From Mr

Disclaimer: Everything is JK Rowling's, except for the plot.

What I Learned From Mr. Ollivander

Ch. 3

The Mysterious Box

It took forever for the Dursleys to go to bed that night. One Dursley in particular, sat down in a deep armchair and drank what Harry guessed was tea, for hours after Mr. Dursley and Dudley had gone to bed. He wondered what was keeping her awake; Aunt Petunia usually went to sleep early.

However, Harry considered this unforeseen impediment both a blessing and a curse. While he had hoped to leave at eleven, the wait provided him with more time to prepare what had been a shoddy alias.

For what seemed the thousandth time that night Harry gazed into a transfigured mirror and marveled at the change in his appearance. The jeans and t-shirt he wore were no longer ridiculously huge now that they had been shrunk to fit his small frame. His hair that had once been unmanageable now fell submissively across his forehead, effectively covering his scar. The boyish roundness that had characterized his nose sharpened into perfect emulation of his mother's. Despite the slightly foreign appearance of his face, Harry gradually began to enjoy it. He hoped that this time around, people would be able to see him for who he really was, rather than constantly compare him to his father.

'_Once I get contacts, no one will recognize me as Harry Potter'_ he smirked in satisfaction. He had four years to be normal and he expected to enjoy it.

A soft snore caused Harry to look up suddenly and lay the mirror down. Moving into a crouched position, Harry slid up to the door of his cupboard and placed his ear against it. More light snores filtered through the room. Heart crashing against his ribs, Harry opened the door softly, praying that it wouldn't creak. Aunt Petunia had always been a light sleeper.

With a gentle heave, Harry opened the door completely, and was able to spy Aunt Petunia sitting in an armchair with her head back and mouth ajar. Her hand rested upon a box, sitting innocently on the adjacent table. Harry's interest was instantly aroused by this object, as it must have inhabited the attic, the one place he had never cleaned, nor set eyes upon.

Forcing his almost insatiable curiousity behind his Occlumency shields, Harry focused on the task at hand. He reached down into his pocket and felt the watch ticking regularly. Nodding to himself, Harry looked around his cupboard, grabbed eleven toy soldiers, and deposited them into his other pocket. Finally, Harry crept out of his cupboard and into the hall, breathing shallowly. He had planned on walking down the hall to the front door, departing, and simply leaving it at that. But as he passed the living room, his eyes grazed across the mysterious box once again. He paused. Biting his lip, Harry considered going back to see what it contained. Even if Aunt Petunia did wake up, its not like she would be able to stop him from leaving. He stared at her, wondering whether she'd even care that he was gone.

"Yeah right" he muttered to himself. He backtracked a couple of steps and glared at the box, cursing his own curious nature. After a few moments, Harry sighed lightly in defeat and tiptoed over to Aunt Petunia.

He regarded her face for a moment and suddenly felt the absurd urge to giggle at a particularly loud snore. Slapping a hand over his lips to stifle the laughter, Harry turned his attention to the box that had captured his attention in the first place. It was very plainly decorated, with a keyhole shining tantalizingly in the front. He looked around for the corresponding key and found it choking in Aunt Petunia's fist.

Hoping that she'd left the box unlocked, Harry carefully wrapped his hand around her wrist and gripped the box with the other. She snorted and jerked her head to the side at the contact, and Harry froze, his eyes wide. When she was settled once more, Harry released a breath and attempted to unthaw his heart. Delicately, he lifted her wrist. Pulling the wooden box out from under her arm quickly, he then switched it with a nearby tissue box and gently laid her hand on top of it. Anxiously, Harry analyzed her facial expression and found it still with sleep.

He threaded his fingers through his hair out of habit and turned to the box. It was now or never. Harry placed a silencing spell on it and then confidently lifted the lid. The first thing Harry noticed was the bundle of letters that took up half of the entire box. There were pictures scattered around the bottom and a locket that lied coiled on top of the letters.

The letters L.E. were engraved on the front of the locket, and Harry's breath hitched. Numbly, he lifted it from the box and opened it. Inside, there was a picture a beautiful red head kissing the cheek of a boy with messy hair and a wide grin. Harry stared at it for a minute with a dazed expression, as if he were hypnotized, and then gazed back down at the box. All of the letters had the same address on them.

To: Pet

From: Lily

Harry shut the locket and placed it in his pocket carefully. He then picked up a picture from the bottom and his eyes wandered eagerly over it. Little Lily was smiling shyly, with ice cream plastered all over her mouth. Aunt Petunia was sitting on a stool and eating ice cream like Lily. A toothy grin adorned her face.

Harry added the picture to the collection of items in his pocket. His eyes frosted with fury as he looked over at Aunt Petunia. He couldn't believe that she had the audacity to keep something that important from him. It would have meant a lot for Aunt Petunia to let him see the items inside that plain wooden box. Everything could have been different.

He was about to resume his search, and was reaching his hand back into the box for more pictures when a creak sounded. Harry flinched and snapped his head in the direction of the noise. For a moment, Harry's blazing emerald eyes met the dull brown eyes of Aunt Petunia's and she paled dramatically.

"How could you keep this from me?" Harry snarled, his hands curled into fists.

Her eyes wide, Aunt Petunia attempted to answer but stuttered horribly, fearing the look the boy was giving her. She noticed fleetingly that his appearance had changed but was distracted by how magic crackled around him like thunder during a storm. "I-I…"

She was interrupted however, by the sound of heavy footsteps upstairs. Harry's eyes darted upward and he knew that he was out of time. He sent Aunt Petunia one last glare of loathing and ran out the door, into the night.

"I'm sorry" Aunt Petunia whispered belatedly, sinking low into the armchair.

--

The night was warm, quiet, and clear. Through the pounding in his ears, Harry could only discern the sounds of distant traffic, a chime singing nearby, and his own feet slamming against the pavement. He sprinted past Wisteria Walk and Magnolia Crescent and eventually entered the park grounds. Immediately he bent over and rested his arms on top of his knees, gasping for breath. The tips of his hair were slick with sweat and his glasses had slid halfway down his nose. With an irritated shove, Harry righted his glasses and stood up, glancing around. Seeing no one he cast a refreshing spell that was instantly followed by a drying spell. Harry's eyes glazed over as he remembered having to use those charms constantly while in prison. As a result, he was quite proficient at cleaning charms.

He sighed, and all of his fury at Aunt Petunia, and his life in general, seemed to evacuate with that breath. The only thing that remained was a solemn sense of duty. This wasn't about him or his feelings anymore, it was about protecting those that he had failed the last time.

"I am the perfect little soldier" He laughed coldly, without humor. A second later, his eyes sparked, the words had struck a chord of remembrance. "…soldiers… I almost forgot."

Harry sat on a swing and pulled the eleven toys out of his pocket. He waved his hand over the pile and they transformed from soldiers into sickles. Knowing that the transfigured money wouldn't last long, Harry wasted no time in summoning the Knight Bus.

A bang instantly echoed down the streets of the otherwise silent neighborhood. Harry walked up to the curb just as the Knight Bus pulled in front of him. He smiled genuinely as Stan Shunpike bounced out of the purple bus, a sense of déjà vu washed over him and he recalled being in the same position just before third year.

After taking a deep breath, Stan began to proclaim, "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport--"

"Yes St--" Harry barely refrained himself from saying the teenager's name. He cleared his throat, "—Sir that will do. Thank you." He said softly, hoping that he would not offend him, but feeling anxious about hanging around Privet Drive for so long. Dropping the sickles into Stan's hand, Harry attempted to climb the stairs into the bus, but was brought to a halt when the conductor didn't move out of the way. He peered at Harry through narrowed eyes.

"Arnchoo' a tad small to be ridin' this bus alone?" he inquired.

"I'm part goblin" Harry explained, deadpan. He felt guilty, taking advantage the fact that Stan was a little dense, but was relieved when he moved to the side.

"Oh! My apolgies' sir!" Stan said contritely. Harry stepped up and was about to enter the bus when he spotted a man with black hair and a pale complexion, reading a book on the bed nearest to the door. Terror clogged Harry's throat as he ducked down. He surreptitiously took off his glasses, stuffing them into his jean pocket.

Stan looked at him as if he'd just grown another head and asked "Choo' do that for?"

"I- er- I thought I dropped something…" Harry trailed off and once again boarded the bus, practically trembling with dread.

A pair of coal black eyes locked onto him the moment Harry stepped onto the bus. He was positive that the man had heard everything, and therefore, was probably suspicious already. Harry lowered his eyes to the floor, unnecessarily pressing his hair down to cover his scar, and cursed vehemently in his mind. This was not how he had planned to meet Professor Snape!

Attempting to look nonchalant, Harry strode confidently down the aisle. He searched for a bed that was far enough away from Professor Snape to discourage conversation, but not so far that it seemed like he was deliberately trying to avoid his presence. Eventually, Harry ended up choosing a bed in the middle of the bus, not far from what appeared to be an intoxicated wizard, if the bottle of firewhiskey in his hand was any indication.

Harry crinkled his nose at the stench, but sat down anyway. He stared out the window, keeping a close eye on Professor Snape in his peripheral vision. The man had not moved, except to shoot glances Harry's way every few seconds.

Suddenly, there was another bang, and the bus was off. After recovering his former position, Harry noticed that Professor Snape had stood and started gliding down the aisle in Harry's direction.

'He's just going to the bathroom' Harry reassured himself mentally, subconsciously biting his lower lip and refusing to look in his direction.

But he wasn't.

When Professor Snape stopped in the aisle and towered over him, Harry reluctantly moved his head towards the man, but didn't lift his eyes, feeling like they would be an immediate give-away.

"Can I help you, sir?" He asked politely.

Harry didn't see Professor Snape's wide smirk. "Now what would a little goblin be doing, all alone, on the Knight Bus, at twelve thirty in the morning, hmmm?" He drawled, studying the small boy in front of him.

Harry felt a pang fill his chest at the familiar voice. If he hadn't known undeniably that Snape worked for the light side, Harry thought he would've been frozen in mortal terror. As it was, he was able to answer the question admirably with only a small amount of fear leaking into his voice.

"Sir, please excuse me, but I am not supposed to speak with strangers." Harry couldn't help but feel smug when the professor looked slightly taken-aback.

"If I recall correctly, you were the one who instigated the conversation in the first place." Professor Snape's angular eyebrow rose slightly.

Harry blushed, and considered pointing out that saying 'can I help you' can also mean 'go away' in certain cases. Specifically, in Harry's case. However, he remained silent and waited to see whether or not Professor Snape would leave.

He didn't.

"Do you realize that in most cultures, even in the goblin's culture, that it is generally considered polite to look your elders in the eye?"

Harry glanced up at his Professor's pensive face unthinkingly, before lowering his eyes again. "Well, sir, I would have to inform you that because you are not part goblin, as I am, you could not possibly be versed in goblin culture and therefore could not know whether looking your elders in the eyes was considered a virtue, or a vice." Harry smirked, assuming the man would throw an apoplectic fit at his repartee.

But the man snorted humorously. Harry looked up at him in shock, and then back down at the bed covers.

"What is your name?" Professor Snape asked, this time with an edge to his voice.

"Gabriel" Harry responded automatically, having practiced his alias at Privet Drive.

He sighed exasperatedly and shut his eyes briefly as if he were praying for patience. "Your last name"

"…Brighton" Harry added reluctantly.

"Well, Mr. Brighton, I can assure you while that I mean you no harm, I cannot speak for the other thousands of wizards who creep around Britain at night. It would be wise for you not to…wander." Snape advised silkily, no doubt trying to scare him.

"I will keep that in mind, sir." Harry smiled, hardly able to believe that Snape, _Severus Snape_, of all people, was being kind to him.

The professor scowled "I will ask this once more before I become exceedingly irritated. Where are you going?"

Harry contemplated his words, and decided that Professor Snape would never leave him alone if he didn't answer.

"I am going to my parent's house in Diagon Alley." He replied, hiding the truth behind his Occlumency shields and exuding truthfulness.

A light probing brushed across Harry's mind, as he expected. After a moment, Professor Snape's posture relaxed significantly. He gave a curt nod, "Alright Mr. Brighton." Then, Professor Snape turned sharply on his heel and strode back to his seat.

Harry allowed himself to slump to the bed in relief. His bones felt like they were made of jello and his mind was whirring with confusion. Since when had Snape been nice to anyone? Especially children? Was the man actually decent to others outside of Hogwarts? Harry smirked when he thought about the reaction Snape would have if he realized he had a civil conversation with Harry Potter.

The trip took about fifteen minutes more, and in the duration of that time, Harry was desperately attempting to remain conscious. His seven year old body was crying out for sleep, and his sixteen year old mind was fighting the urge bitterly. He was relieved when the bus came to an abrupt halt in front of the Leaky Cauldron. After stumbling slightly, he stood and sauntered down the aisle. As he passed Snape, he tensed, and didn't look at him. However, his attempt to pass the man without interaction failed when Professor Snape lightly gripped the edge of his shirt.

Harry spun to look at him and was stunned when the Professor's eyed were not cold with malice, but rather tinged with anxiety. He did not notice when the man paled, being so busy with trying to interpret the foreign appearance of his face.

"Be careful" he demanded, before releasing his grip.

Professor Snape's voice knocked Harry from his stupor and he flushed. "Yes, sir. I mean I will, sir."

Harry turned hurriedly, and practically ran down the stairs. Outside, a gush of warm wind carried with it loud sounds of laughter drifting from the general direction of the building in front of him. He walked across the pavement, and was opening the door to the Leaky Cauldron when he heard Stan's voice from inside the Knight Bus.

"'ey Ern! 'Ow did a bunch of toys get in the money box?"

The teenager's voice drifted off as the bus left once more. Harry smiled widely, barely resisting laughter, before disappearing behind the heavy wooden door to the Leaky Cauldron.

A/N: I hope you all liked this chapter! It is a little bit longer than the others. In case you're wondering, Professor Snape's actions will be explained in the next chapter. Please review, I love reading your messages!


	4. Reflections of a Snarky Potions Professo

What I Learned From Mr

Disclaimer: Don't own anything but the plot.

What I Learned From Mr. Ollivander

Ch. 4

Reflections of A Snarky Potions Professor

There was a potions book laying his lap, but he wasn't interested in reading it. Instead, Severus Snape watched the night sky through the window opposite his bed on the Knight Bus. The stars passed so quickly that they looked like sprinkles of white sand in sable colored water. Wind rushed around the speeding bus and created a gentle whistling that was hardly detectable to even his own sensitive ears. Severus turned his head to the front of the bus and spied Ern at the wheel. Every once in awhile, the boy Stan would speak to him, but otherwise the bus was silent.

The potions master sighed and thought that it would be a fine job, being a bus driver. It was simple and when it was time to leave for the day, your job was finished until next time. He wished vehemently that he had decided to be a bus driver instead of a spy; because, even if Voldemort was gone for the time being, Severus Snape was still a spy. He would always be. The masks he used were so numerous, that he wasn't even sure who he really was anymore.

'Get a grip Severus' he thought, and began burying his emotions with the efficiency of a gravedigger. His face was slowly ironed out of the wrinkles that conveyed worry and depression; a demeanor of bored apathy replaced it. However, while he could hide his fear on the outside, he was not as successful on the inside, where a lingering sense of dread smoked in the pit of his stomach.

Dread for tonight's Death Eater meeting. They were still being held regularly, although not frequently. It was difficult for them to occur when everyone that had been suspected of being a death eater was often watched and the Dark Lord's old hideouts had been infiltrated. Usually, the meetings were scheduled for late at night or early in the morning in Knockturn Alley. During the meetings, they would all talk about how much they missed their Lord, drink, and occasionally torture muggles. However, there was never any conversation about finding and restoring the Dark Lord to power. The real secret was that no one, even the most die-hard purists, wanted the mad man back in power. The meetings were simply held so that when the Dark Lord returned, they could prove their continued loyalty.

The return of the Dark Lord was inevitable, the Death Eaters just hoped that it wouldn't happen any time soon. After all, a majority of the teenagers who joined him in the first war now had children, and despite the obvious flaws in Death Eater morality, most cared for their kids. The thought of their children being forced into service weighed heavily on their minds.

'At least I don't have that problem' Severus thought with false optimism.

He leaned against the wall of the bus, only to be unsettled by the abrupt halt of the Knight Bus. Letting out an irritated puff of breath, Severus righted himself and glared out the window to see what other scum they were picking up. It was too dark to see details but the outline of the person preparing to board was extremely small.

Stan stood, trotted down the stairs, and started saying his usual spiel when he was interrupted by a very soft, very young sounding voice. Severus's eyes narrowed and he surreptitiously cast an eavesdropping spell.

"Arnchoo' a tad small to be ridin' this bus alone?" came the magnified teenagers voice.

The was a pause.

"I'm part goblin" the other person replied, sounding dead serious. Severus tried admirably to keep his face still, but a wobbly smirk that was threatening to give way to a wide grin stretched across his face. It was the funniest thing he'd heard in a long time.

'I will not grin like a buffoon… I will not…" he thought to himself and gazed into his book so that no one would see him smiling. He had a reputation to uphold, after all. However, Severus was so busy concentrating on keeping control that he missed something extremely important.

A small face peered at him through huge glasses and then paled drastically. The face then quickly disappeared. By the time the potions master controlled himself, Stan was saying "Choo' do that for?"

"I- er -I thought I dropped something." The small outline replied, and then there were sounds of footsteps on the bus stairs. Severus looked up in curiousity.

A child with long glossy hair appeared, his skin alabaster. Severus frowned deeply upon the realization that the boy looked about five years in age, had no luggage, and was trembling lightly. He found himself wondering if the boy was naturally that pale, or if all the blood had drained out of his face. Fleetingly, the child gazed over at him, from underneath his long eyelashes, before he looked at the floor and moved forward.

Intrigued, Severus glanced back at him and noted with disapproval that he had picked the bed next to the drunk. Did he have no thought for his own safety? Traveling late at night and sitting next to a bum, honestly. Severus _knew_ the boy was intelligent. No five, six, or seven year old including Draco would have been able to gain access to the Knight Bus and manipulate Stan so easily. So why would he get on the bus after midnight and sit next to a drunken bum when it is obviously unsafe?

He gritted his teeth, if that boy had done something that stupid at Hogwarts, he would've given him detention for a month. However, as they were not at Hogwarts, he did not have the authority to drag the child into his dungeons and have him scrubbing cauldrons until morning. Nevertheless, while he may be considered a git of a potions professor, he did care about the welfare of the young ones at the school. Severus had always harbored a sense of duty where protecting children was concerned and so, as the only responsible adult on the bus, it compelled him to ensure the boy's safety.

He groaned at his own insufferable Gryffindor-ish mentality, but he was drowned out by the BANG that signaled the Knight bus's departure. The speed knocked him onto his back ungracefully and Severus stood up quickly to recover himself from the undignified position.

"Impulsive, idiotic, imbecilic children" he muttered under his breath, as he strode towards the boy. His cloak snapped behind him impressively, but the child was oblivious to him. He stared out the window of the Knight Bus, his hands curled into fists and his shoulders taut as if he were expecting an imminent attack. Severus stepped in front of the child and waited for him to notice his presence.

After a few long seconds, the boy warily turned to face him but did not look up. Severus frowned at the rudeness of the gesture, but figured that the child was likely afraid of him. As he should be.

"Can I help you sir?" the boy asked tightly.

The potions master ignored the question and smirked "Now what would a little goblin be doing, all alone, on the Knight Bus, at twelve thirty in the morning, hmmm?"

A nerve jumped in the boy's jaw "Sir," he began politely, "please excuse me but I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

He sounded so much older in how he spoke than how he looked that Severus was impressed in spite of himself.

"If I recall correctly, you were the one who instigated the conversation in the first place."

Severus waited for a response, but when none was forthcoming, he spoke once more.

"Do you realize that in most cultures, even in the goblin's culture, that it is generally considered polite to look your elders in the eye?"

The boy looked up for a second before dropping his gaze once more.

"Well, sir, I would have to inform you that because you are not part goblin, as I am, you could not possibly be versed in goblin culture and therefore could not know whether looking your elders in the eyes was considered a virtue, or a vice."

Severus snorted. He couldn't help it. It was not everyday that he met someone who dared to banter with him, especially in intellectual subjects. Most children stared up at him with wide, tearful eyes and accepted what he told them without argument. The child was bold, there was no debating that, and Severus felt a strange mixture of vexation and pleasure at the response. But for all his talk, Severus had no knowledge in the subject of goblins and therefore was unable to return a scathing remark.

"What is your name?" he asked in a harder voice.

"Gabriel"

Severus shut his eyes in impatience.

"Your last name" he sighed.

The boy hesitated before saying "Brighton"

The name did not mean anything to Severus, so the child was therefore either muggleborn, a half-blood, or from a foreign pure-blooded family.

"Well, Mr. Brighton, I can assure you while that I mean you no harm, I cannot speak for the other thousands of wizards who creep around Britain at night. It would be wise for you not to…wander."

"I will keep that in mind sir." The boy smiled, unaffected by the potion master's ominous tone.

Such a cheeky child.

"I will ask this once more before I become exceedingly irritated. Where are you going?" Severus asked, getting right to the point. He didn't think there was much time before he reached his destination.

The boy's eyes wandered over the bed quilt before answering resignedly "I am going to my parent's house in Diagon Alley."

Severus distrusted that answer immediately, but didn't admit it. Instead, he brushed lightly probed the boy's mind, trying to verify his suspicions. However, while the potions master found no trace of deceit, uneasiness beleaguered his instincts. Through years of spying, is instincts had helped him survive, and he had learned to trust them almost implicitly. But if there was no proof, what was a potions master to do?

"All right Mr. Brighton" he grumbled, reluctantly accepting the boy's answer. Abruptly, he turned on his heel and walked back through the rows of beds, preventing himself from digging deeper into the boy's story.

'I can't do anything about it anyway' he thought helplessly. If he weren't bound by time, Severus would have marched the boy straight to his house and ensured that the child was in a good situation. As it was, however…

Grimacing, Severus took his book from the folds of sheets and opened it in his lap. Potions of all colors, viscosities, and textures were splattered across the rough pages, amalgamating into a collage. As the Knight Bus raced across the countryside, the professor observed the book, but could not concentrate enough to actually read it. The pages blurred under his gaze as his conscience throbbed with guilt. The little brat kept popping into his thoughts.

Severus's frown deepened when he looked back at the boy, sitting still as a statue and gazing at his hands pensively. It was like watching an old man in a little boy's body, and the professor found himself wondering what caused the child's solemnity. Poverty? The boy's clothes were certainly ratty enough. Fear? Abuse? Or was it a mixture of all three?

Suddenly, the ignored potions book rocketed out of Severus's lap and slapped to the ground when the Knight Bus halted. Grumbling, he picked the book up and dusted it off, before he looked out the window. They had stopped at the Leaky Cauldron.

Soft footsteps increased in volume as the boy hurried to the front of the bus. As he passed the potions master's bed, Severus reached for the boy on impulse born from a mixture of desperation to make sure the boy would be safe and guilt that he couldn't. The Lord knew, that Severus had been unable to protect so many before, he loathed the possibility of another on his conscience.

Mr. Brighton swung around sharply, fear etched into every contour on his face, and Severus was momentarily stunned by the boy's likeness to Lily. His emerald green eyes were laden with conflicting emotions, so that the professor could not identify any single one. It was like looking into a waterfall and trying to follow the trail of a single drop, completely impossible. It was like looking into Lily's eyes.

"Be careful" Severus said sharply.

"Yes sir. I mean I will, sir." The boy stammered; cheeks flushed.

Severus's heart thumped frantically behind his chest as he watched the boy amble down the aisle and the bus stairs. As the child was swept into the night air, the anxiety seemed to release its tendrils from him and his shoulders dropped. His lower lip was released from between his teeth. The boy's features faded into the night when the Knight Bus raced away. As soon as he returned to Hogwarts the next day, Severus resolved to inquire about Lily's child.

--

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the fourth chapter! It is a little shorter than the others… Originally there was going to be a second part but I didn't have time to write it because I am going to Europe in two days!! I will be gone for 20 days so I won't be updating during that time. Please Review! They make my day sunshine-y bright!


	5. The Phin Brothers

What I Learned From Mr

A/N: So, without further adieu I present… THE FIFTH CHAPTER!! I'm sorry that it took so long! The only excuse I have is that I've been very busy and been battling writer's block, a truly saddening disease. I've got it all worked out though, so the chapters should be coming faster. I hope you like this chapter! I'm going to try and make the next one longer. Thanks to all who reviewed and stuck with me! You make my day!

What I Learned From Mr. Ollivander

Ch. 5

The Phin Brothers

--

Give in to ghosts that haunt you

Accept the friends you want to

I feel like I am barely on

A well with all the water drawn

And are there rooms inside, protection from the passers by?

Is there a place where I can close my eyes?

I wish there was

In the hallway light you slip right by like a mirage

When I'm hard on life, I sleep in days and wander nights

With legs too weak to carry on

We fall apart like falling stars

"Werewolves" by Secret and Whisper

--

Harry cringed as the door groaned. Immediately, the muted voices he had heard outside hushed into an awkward silence. He stood still for a moment inside the foyer, eyeing Tom the barman and the two aurors opposite him suspiciously.

"How may I help you, lad?" Tom asked after a moment, with a superficial smile.

"I simply need access to Diagon Alley." Harry replied, wondering what the man was hiding. It was very uncharacteristic for Tom to be secretive; at least it was for the one in Harry's dimension… Peering around the dim room, Harry noticed the aurors shooting him frequent glances, as if they were anxious for his departure. The boy frowned at this realization and directed his gaze back to Tom, who was nodding.

"Well go on then." He commanded, flapping his short-fingered hand toward the rear corner of the store. "It's in the back and in the hallway to the right."

Harry felt his irritation rise at the patronizing tone in Tom's voice, but he submerged the urge to snap at the man. Instead, he pursed his lips and nodded before obeying him. It would not do to have Tom suspecting Harry's real intentions. This way, eavesdropping would be relatively easy.

The first sight that met his gaze as he turned into the dimly lit hallway was that of a large brick wall. He quickly and conspicuously walked up to it, tapped the bricks in the correct order, and smirked as the wall separated noisily aside. He then treaded from one side of the hallway to the other, allowing the sounds of his footsteps to carry into the main room. After a pause, the wall united once more and Harry sneaked back to the hallway entrance, sinking down into the shadows. He waited with baited breath for the conversation to continue.

There was a heavy sigh. "So anyway, where was I?"

"You were telling me about an employee at a potions shop." A low, gravelly voice, that Harry knew to be Tom's, answered.

"Oh, right… Well, one of Oleander's employees came to me the other day and said she thought there was dark magic being practiced in the basement of the store, a place forbidden to employees. I asked her to explain, but she refused. Obviously, we weren't going to go in without some evidence…"

A pause.

Curious, Harry peeked around the wall he was leaning against and saw one of the aurors staring into his beer stein with harsh anxiety lines etched into the contours of his face. The auror next to him continued the story with a deep frown.

"We found her dead the next day, in the wooded area next to the Ministry of Magic. The word PRODITIO was carved into her forehead, on the palms of her hands, feet and across her stomach."

"The betrayal curse." Tom breathed and the auror nodded grimly.

"We obtained a search warrant and went with a group of ten to the potions shop. Immediately after we entered, we were fired upon from two different directions with dark spells. After half an hour of fighting the culprits were downed, and eight aurors were either dead, or doomed to die. We were the only survivors."

Tom's face was the pasty white color of the greatly disturbed. "And who were the culprits?" he asked.

"Oleander and Phrixus Phin" the auror replied, shaking his head. "There has been an arrest warrant out for Phrixus ever since the war started. We were never able to find any clues about his whereabouts, only to discover that he was locked up in his brother's basement in Knockturn Alley."

"What had he been doing in the basement all those years?" came Tom's unsteady voice.

The aurors glanced at each other significantly "All we found were illegal dark arts books piled up against the wall, a huge map of Albania with pins in it at certain locations, and a resurrections book open on the bed."

"You-Know-Who?" Tom inquired, shifting his wide-eyed gaze between the two aurors. It wasn't necessary to say anything else.

The silence was heavy, and confirming, and despite the cold, damp air of the Leaky Cauldron, Harry began to sweat.

"Why hasn't the wizarding world been informed of this?"

"It's Fudge" one of the aurors snarled, as if the name were a curse. "The spineless dunce is keeping the whole nasty business hushed up because it might cause a _'needless nation-wide panic.'_ He says there is no reason to believe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is slithering about somewhere in Albania."

"What happened to the Phin brothers?"

Both aurors smiled, close-lipped. It did not reach their eyes, however, and they gleamed with a mixture of fury and desire for revenge. "They are scheduled for the dementor's kiss in two days."

Tom nodded jerkily. "Serves them right," he grunted.

"Indeed" an auror responded.

The trio sat in melancholy thought for another minute or so, draining the dregs of their drinks and taking comfort in each other's company. The candles flickered, and outside the wind sung as it swept around buildings. In the darkness of the hallway, Harry allowed his head to fall back against the wall. He had never realized the extent of media manipulation that Fudge had accomplished. In truth, it was deeply disturbing. Who knew how many years were wasted in the fight against Voldemort? How many lives could have been saved?

'It is amazing how much one life can impact others' Harry mused. One thing was for certain: if Voldemort was going to be stopped, Fudge would have to either be controlled, or killed. 'Then again,' Harry thought 'if Fudge were killed, anybody could replace him. A death eater, possibly.' The risk was unacceptable. 'At least Fudge, the cowardly imbecile he is, can be controlled.'

And with that thought, a plan began to form in Harry's mind.

When the aurors eventually rose from their stools to leave, Harry was smiling and his eyes were bright with inspiration. He stood and disillusioned himself quickly, pressing his back against the wall. The aurors turned the corner into the hall. "Remember," one said, "you cannot tell anyone. We could get fired--."

But suddenly, Harry's head was pounding, and concentration was impossible. His hands curled into fists and large black explosions materialized in his eyes. His lungs couldn't seem to breathe in enough air, he began sweating profusely, and shaking like one possessed. It took everything in the boy to remain standing instead of clambering to the floor, and keep his lips shut.

As though he were underwater, he heard the telltale crunching noise that signified the brick wall separating. The aurors strode out of the Leaky Cauldron and Harry stumbled after them. His foot cleared the wall just before it shut once more. After they were out of sight, Harry wandered blindly down the deserted road, gasping for air, looking frantically for someplace where he could be safely vulnerable.

Eventually, Harry came upon a black and narrow alleyway. It wasn't a five-star hotel, or even a modest hotel, but he felt his brain shutting down and there wasn't time to find anywhere else. He walked down the alley for a distance, before he sank down onto the pavement, ignoring the scurrying of rats not far away. Through half-lidded eyes Harry viewed the night sky, with its many bright stars winking genially upon him. He gasped as unconsciousness enveloped him and the stars blurred until the light disappeared and night reigned over all the Earth.

--

The rats grew bold once more as the human boy became still upon the pavement. They were boisterous, squeaking periodically at the discovery of a crumb and chatting with each other socially. However, they continued to maintain a wide perimeter around the human, because while he seemed to be unaware, his eyes continued to shift rapidly, and rats always had to be cautious.

--

He was in a restaurant, sitting at a table in the corner with candles weeping periodically upon the table. Scratching old wax up into crumbles with his fingernail, Harry looked at the person across from him. Her face was that of a young woman, but it was confusing to him, because he had known her while she was middle aged. Nevertheless, Professor Trelawney looked the same as ever, minus a few wrinkles and pounds.

"Tell me" Harry demanded, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at her expectantly. It was imperative that he know.

Professor Trelawney shut her eyes and shook her head slowly, as if in regret. In response, Harry's temper rocketed and he sat up straight, gripping the edges of the table.

"Tell me, now" Harry ordered. His voice was soft, but his tone dangerous.

She shook her head once more. "You know I cannot."

Harry's chair fell back and hit the floor as he stood, the sound of the crash reverberated throughout the entire restaurant. People turned and watched him fearfully.

Like gasoline to a flame, the fear only fuelled his fury. His bone-white hand reached out and gripped the front of Professor Trelawney's robe, forcing her closer to him. "You will tell me, or you will die." Harry hissed in a voice that was not his own. Shaken, Harry looked into Professor Trelawney's terrified eyes, and saw Lord Voldemort reflected in her glasses, staring at him.

Harry's heart stopped.

--

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